


(All You Need Is) Vivid Imagination

by Leni



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, no magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 09:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7634110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni/pseuds/Leni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phone-sex.</p><p>Really, what else can I say about this? Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	(All You Need Is) Vivid Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> @rumbelleprompts:
> 
> Belle is trying to unwind after a long day of working for her bastard of a boss Mr. Gold. While laying in bed and trying to get herself off Mr. Gold calls to ask her about a file she took care of that day, the smart thing to do would be to stop touching herself and listen to what he's saying, but Belle is very close and Gold's brogue is just what she needs to push her over the edge.

Belle had always been fond of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. 

But now she wished she'd never used it as her phone ring. For the last five minutes she had tried to ignore its shrill summons, but it was impossible to relax and picture the invisible hands running down her body and teasing her most sensitive parts with such noise as background.

"Damn it!" she yelled at the ceiling, sitting up from her comfortable nest of pillows and fumbling for the accursed cell phone on her night stand. The number flaring on the screen was not familiar, and didn't register under any name in her contact list. If someone was prank-dialing her on a Friday night... " _What?_ "

Then the absolute worst thing happened.

Or, according to the answering thrum between her thighs, the very best.

"Well, good evening to you too, Miss French."

Mr. Gold.

Belle closed her eyes, seeing her determination never to picture her boss while she was naked in bed swirl down the proverbial drain. She let out a silent groan and clutched at the closest pillow to cover herself. It was ridiculous since he couldn't see her, but reason seemed to have fled at the sound of his voice.

It had taken her months not to trail after him like a sick puppy just to hear that rough rumble as it gave orders in that quiet yet unyielding tone.

It had taken her longer not to daydream of him holding that power over her.

Naked.

In her bed.

Like she was right now.

Belle bit down a whimper, squeezing her thighs together helplessly. "Hello, Mr. Gold," she managed, clutching her phone to remind herself it was reality and not another fantasy her brain had concocted. "I wasn't expecting..."

"Of course you weren't," he huffed. "It's nine at night. You are well within your rights to expect no work-related hassle until Monday morning."

It was the closest thing to an apology Belle had ever heard the man utter. "Um. Thanks?"

" _However_ , I will be leaving town in the morning, and the latest notes on the Nolan file remain at large. I have looked on my desk, where all important paperwork was supposed to be at the end of the day-" Was he calling from the office? Didn't he ever go home? Belle had heard that, divorced and with a grown kid, Mr. Gold lived by himself, but surely he would have someone who cared that he got enough rest? "-but it appears my instructions have not been followed. I am sure you have an explanation for its absence?"

The Nolan case. An amicable enough divorce, if one ignored the public scene at the local primary school.

Astrid had been supposed to print out the file and leave it in their boss's office.

Obviously Belle needed to have another chat with her fellow intern about avoiding distractions. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Gold," she said, unwilling to throw the other girl under the bus. Astrid was terrified of Mr. Gold's moods, and while she wasn't a fan, Belle had worked close enough to him for more than a year (the longest internship assigned to him yet) and she'd been able to get glimpses of a softer side from time to time. "I can get it to you early tomorrow, before you depart."

Mr. Gold's voice dropped to a warning rumble. "But that's no good to me, dearie."

Belle bit her lip. It was useless to remind herself that it was his pet name of choice for anyone who crossed his way. It wasn't the word itself, but his voice as he said it that made her wonder if he'd use it in an intimate setting.

Like her bedroom.

While she lay in her bed, nothing but a pillow to make an attempt at covering herself.

Oh God....

"Miss French?"

"Yes, Mr. Gold! I mean -" A devious idea came to her. She shouldn't. She wouldn't. She _did_. "Why don't you tell me how I can make this better?" The pillow flew across the room, leaving her bare except for the phone pressed to her ear. No. No. That wouldn't do. She'd need both hands.... Impulsively, she put him on speaker. "I'm sure there must be some way...."

"Hmph. Don't think you could make your way here."

Belle pictured herself grabbing her bulkiest coat, and nothing else, and rushing out at once. "To the office?"

Laid out on the desk. Pressed against the wall. Entwined on the carpet of the receiving room.

Her fingers pinched her breasts, and she imagined his long hands instead.

"Well, that's where the damn file must be."

"Ummm hmmm... And once there?" She brought a hand up to her lips, gave a quick lick to her fingers before running it back down her belly. "Where would we - ah! ...where would we look first?"

There was a pause.

Enough sanity returned to wonder if Mr. Gold had caught on. If he was about to cut off the call in disgust, and on Monday she'd be fired for sheer indecency. 

She froze, biting her lower lip as she waited.

"The copy room, of course."

She let out a shaky breath, picturing the narrow space. That room was little better than a closet, and everybody took turns using the copy machine unless they wanted to be glued together inside. Their bodies would touch, arms brushing together. Her hand would drift up his shoulder, and his would thread around her waist. "Right," she murmured, dipping through the soft hair between her legs and finding a comfortable position. "Sounds good, sir."

"We'll have to be thorough," he continued, his voice stern. "Not leave any spot untouched."

A shiver stole through her at the picture those words brought to her mind. His fingers searching for any available skin, his lips torturing her as he discovered her breasts, his teeth dragging across her nipples, down the underside of the soft flesh... "Yes." She almost moaned out loud at the idea of his hands traveling up her legs, from the arch of her feet to her ankles, to the sensitive spots behind her knees and then down her skirt... Not one place left untouched. "Good idea, Mr. Gold."

"It probably won't be there, though."

"No?"

"Miss French, if it were that easy, I wouldn't be here with you."

Here. With. Her.

Standing at her doorway. Watching her.

Sitting in her bed. Watching her.

Liking what he saw.

"i - I understand."

He hummed, the quiet sound a man would make when pleased.

Pleased by her.

"And if - if it's not there?"

"Then I'll be quite upset, Miss French," he said, his voice lower. More dangerous. It always made her squirm, but now she indulged in letting her left hand trail up and down her side, then across her belly and back toward her throat, lingering at her pulse as his following words made its pace kick up a notch. "I might just have to ask you to stay until the file is redone. It would take all night long, very hard work, I'm afraid. I'll demand your whole attention, missy."

Belle opened her mouth, fingers stopping their mild play at the outer edges of her core and digging in with firmer strokes. "Hard work, yes," she repeated, opening her legs and imagining his weight between them. He was always so focused in his chosen task. She could imagine that determination brought to bed - her bed - as he settled against her.

Her fingers found her clitoris, and again she imagined it were his. Him touching her. Him playing until he made the world sing.

"I'd prefer if you were a willing participant, Miss French. Help me out, this time, and there might be a reward later for you."

"Reward?" she gasped, even as her other hand came down to join in. 

Yes, she was willing. Yes, she would help him. 

With anything. Everything.

"Of course. I always take care of those who deserve it." He paused. She knew he was smirking. She _wanted_ him to be smirking. "Do you deserve it, Miss French?"

 _Yes_. She deserved. She wanted. Him poised against her, the tip of his cock at her entrance. Yes, always yes. Her fingers crooked, ready to finally dip in.

"Are you ready yet?"

"Almost, sir," she said truthfully.

"Really, Miss French. You've taken long enough. If I were there-" He cut himself off, then made a noise of impatience. "If I were there, I'd make you hurry."

Oh.

Finally, she dipped her fingers in, their way smooth with her wetness. She'd planned for slow, but his words had her wrists jerking in and out in helpless obedience to the suggestion he'd planted.

"Oh, I need to - Mr. Gold. Please. I need -"

"Hm. You sound a bit distressed. Perhaps I should fend for myself and let you go..."

"No! Just... _please_."

"Yes, dearie." Belle's hips jumped off the bed at that word. "If you want it that badly, then let's finish this and come. _Now_."

Oh. God.

The world went black for a moment, and all that mattered was the sound of that voice.

She hoped she'd disconnected the call before a loud whimper of satisfaction broke through her lips, and with that, she let herself fall back into her pillows. After a few minutes of enjoying the languid feeling that coursed through her, Belle grinned widely and started giggling.

If that man could set fire to her like that with just a few words, then it would be her new mission to find out what he could do in the same room.

With that thought in mind, she smiled into the new silence.

She couldn't wait to see him again.

 

***

 

On the other side of the phone, Ronald Gold sat heavily on his chair, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. She had... Oh yes, indeed she had. He wasn't a raw boy not to notice when a girl... a woman... _Belle_ had her pleasure, even when he wasn't physically present.

He closed his eyes, savoring the memory of the sounds that had escaped from her.

She had been glorious, and his mind's eye had been happy to provide accompanying visuals as he led her to orgasm.

Would she...? If he...?

He shook his head.

It must have been a spur of the moment choice. A moment of wickedness on her part. She probably had expected him to fumble and disappoint her, and then laugh at the pathetic man who couldn't take a hint. But he'd shown her. Yes, he'd proved....

Ronald groaned, thinking that through.

He'd proved he was either an oblivious fool, or the sort of man who took advantage of a woman's weak moment.

Why hadn't he gotten their conversation back to track? Why hadn't he just confessed the file was in his hands and disconnected the call? Why hadn't he tried to talk to her before spurring her on with a few veiled propositions?

How was he supposed to face her later?

 

The End  
30/07/16

**Author's Note:**

> For those who like to participate in fic events: http://fic-variations.livejournal.com/142651.html
> 
> One prompt, as many fics as you can squeeze out of it. ;) All fandoms are invited! You can claim up to 2 characters/pairings/friendships. 
> 
> Go. Sign up. Have fun!


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